


be brave, my lionheart.

by pocketsizedtitan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, character death oops, they fall in love, yadda yadda yada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketsizedtitan/pseuds/pocketsizedtitan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm only brave when you're there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	be brave, my lionheart.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this listening to a combination of "king and lionheart" by of monsters and men, "somebody to die for" by hurts, among other sad and angstful songs. Originally posted on my tumblr (pocketsizedtitan).
> 
> If you see this anywhere other than on my [TUMBLR](http://pocketsizedtitan.co.vu/post/66886843865/be-brave-my-lionheart),or here on AO3, then it was reposted **without my permission.**

_Hey, Eren –_

Some days Eren was more broken and torn than others – quite literally with missing limbs and all. But the light never died from his eyes. He always rose back up. He continued on every day like the good soldier boy he was, offering his life on a silver platter.

But you see, Jean wasn’t so ready to do the same thing. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live until he was old. He wanted to pass away in peace.

“That’s a stupid dream,” Eren once said.

“Not as stupid as your insistence to die fighting.”

“At least I’m dying for a cause. I’d die a million times over if it meant saving the world.”

“Not all of us are selfless like you, Eren.”

And it was true. When you removed flesh and muscle, beneath the layers of false brevity and trembling fists there was nothing but cowardice. They were all cowards who didn’t want to die. They lived their days in fear that they would die screaming in the belly of beasts, torn apart by hands and teeth. But Eren experienced all that and was as invincible as ever.

It also helped that he had regenerative abilities, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any pain. He had his limbs ripped from him. He died over and over again, only to rise back up. How many people could say they wouldn’t lose themselves to the pain? Eren wasn’t normal, Jean decided. He was the exception to everything.

_I fucked up._

He was the exception to Jean.

“I don’t get you,” Jean once said.

Eren gave him one of those  _I-could-say-the-_ exact _-same-thing-about-you_ looks that had Jean smiling against his will. Because they were both of opposite temperaments: Eren with his wild and unpredictable ways; Jean who approached things warily and with thought.

“And I hate you,” Jean clarified. He didn’t want Eren getting the wrong impression here even as the distance between them shortened until there was only a breath between their lips. And there was that light in those eyes, those eyes that didn’t belong in this abandoned world. There was also a hint of wonder and trepidation because when the hell was Eren Jaeger ever scared of anything? He didn’t seem to know what to do with Jean’s sudden proximity or tender touch to cheek; gentleness was lost upon this poor creature. It was lost to the both of them and they were both pitiful excuses for human beings but the moment didn’t call for pain and violence. He didn’t want to scare Eren off and Jean had a feeling Eren would be less scared if Jean was a little less gentle. How fucked up was that?

“What are you doing,” Eren said. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement and beneath that statement there was a threatening tone of  _step-one-toe-out-of-line-and-I’ll-kill-you_. He was the most fucked up out of all of them. He didn’t flinch from titans, but he flinched away from affection –  _was that what this was_ , Jean wondered as he leaned down and stole a kiss.

Give him something to kill any day, Eren thought as he shoved Jean away and willingly ran away for the first time in his life.

_Eren, Eren, Eren –_

It was completely out of character for them. Eren was running and avoiding trouble; Jean was seeking out trouble with an almost suicidal passion because let’s face it, Eren was a titan-shifter and if he felt threatened enough he could solve his problems quite easily. Surprisingly it didn’t deter Jean away even as every rational cell warned him to give up.

Eren would ruin his life further.

But he couldn’t. Something foolish possessed him, and maybe he was raving mad after years of killing titans and seeing comrades devoured.

One day Jean couldn’t continue this charade of banters and fist fights. He couldn’t maintain a safe distance. He couldn’t see coherently because Eren was invading the cracks in his walls. Jean couldn’t stand to see his mutilated body. He couldn’t stand the moment where everything stood still because he thought  _this is it, he’s dead_. He couldn’t stand the erratic beat of his heart whenever Eren was around or the thought that he’d be gone one day because there was no happy ending to his story.

“Stop running away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eren growled like the cornered animal he was.

 _Careful, careful_ , Jean reminded himself as he halted. Cautious eyes glared at his extended hand. “I hate you, you know?”

Eren snorted. “I hate you, too, okay? You’ve officially succeeded in scaring me shitless, congratulations. Now go away.”

“I never wanted to die before. I wanted to live safely in the walls. I wanted a lazy, carefree life. You fucked my plan up. You fucked everything up.”

“Stop blaming me for your decisions. I didn’t make you do anything.”

“I would die for you, Eren.”

Maybe he said something wrong because there were furious tears in Eren’s eyes as he punched Jean, sending him to the ground. He saw stars and Jean realized that Eren had been holding back all this time. He thought he was going to pass out.

Eren rubbed his face with the sleeve of his shirt, a muffled whisper of, “You  _stupid fool_.”

_I love you, too—_

Everything was awkward at first. They didn’t know how to touch, how to kiss, how to be something other than soldiers. They taunted each other –  _what the hell kind of kiss was that?_  – and drove the other crazy in whatever way they could –  _does this turn you on?_  Their competitive natures propelled them to push one another as far as they could go but sometimes Jean drove Eren a little too far and he’d have to coax him back into his arms.

“We don’t have to do that yet.”

Eren scowled at him from his spot at the corner of the bed. His legs were tucked beneath him, balled hands over his knees. “Shut up, I know that. Don’t treat me like I’m some kind of woman.”

Jean sighed. “I wasn’t saying that.”

“I know,” Eren deflated. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll try another time.”

“Or you can let me stick it in you.”

“Wow you really know how to seduce a person with your words.”

In the dark of the room with only the moon shining through, Jean could see the way Eren’s cheeks burned. “Oh please. Like  _you’re_ such a suave person.”

The blankets fell away from Jean’s waist as he crawled over, gold eyes fixed on its prey, a smile on his lips, “It doesn’t take much to be more suave than you, Eren.”

Eren didn’t know if he should be infuriated, if he should run away or if he should stay because Jean was nuzzling his neck and doing that thing with his mouth and maybe he was a little sensitive there and it wasn’t fair when Jean took advantage of his weakness like that, “You’re such a j— _ah!_ —jerk.”

_I’m sorry—_

Sometimes Eren got unbelievably angry with Jean. Angry enough that he would cry and Jean would laugh and call him a cry baby and Eren would yell at him.

“If you weren’t already hurt, I’d beat the crap out of you.”

And Jean would give a painful laugh, “You sound like the Corporal. Always with the shit commentary.”

Everything hurt. His ribs were fractured. His whole left side felt bruised from when the titan smacked him mid-air and into a tree. He thought one of his legs was broken but he couldn’t differentiate one searing ache from the other.

“You’re such an idiot, Jean,” Eren snapped, his anger dissipating somewhat.

Jean didn’t refute it. He accepted his idiocy a long time ago when he realized he was in love with Eren Jaeger.

_I can’t keep my promise –_

There were days where Eren was gone and Jean couldn’t go with him. Those days were the most nerve-wracking. He didn’t know if Eren was okay, if he was hurt, if the mission went wrong somehow. He’d read a book to keep himself occupied. That didn’t last long. He’d run some drills. That didn’t quell his anxiety. He’d clean the cabin for once and it would be spotless when Eren and Corporal Levi came back.

“You should clean more often,” Eren would say. He’d look exhausted, but unharmed and Jean would finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“Welcome home,” Jean said.

He helped Eren out of his gear because his body was heavy with a bone weariness that Jean didn’t understand. It was always after he came out of his titan form: Eren was too tired to function. Sometimes he’d have to be carried. Other times he could manage to get himself home. But Jean always helped him remove his gear, if only to touch him to assure himself that Eren was real and there and alive.

By the time the 3D gear was off and Jean helped to remove his boots – Eren had sat down to make it easier – Jean glanced up to find him drifting off between consciousness and sleep.

“I’m home,” Eren said belatedly.

Jean laughed, a warm sound that cocooned Eren and he felt light and nothingness because Jean picked him up in his arms and carried him to bed.

_I don’t want to leave you –_

They shared secrets when it was just the two of them. Whenever they lured titans, Eren and Jean occupied the same tree as the monsters scrambled to reach them from below. Jean sat with his back against the trunk, one leg dangling freely over the large branch as he rocked it back and forth.

“Back when we were training,” Jean reminisced, “Marco once walked in on me masturbating.”

Eren nearly fell out of the tree because he was laughing so hard. “Oh, god. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I walked in on Reiner and Bertholdt together one time…”

The names brought a twinge to their hearts, but they both shared a laugh over it anyway.

“That must’ve been something.”

“Yeah. That was the moment I realized I was gay.”

Jean sat up straight. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. What about you? When did you realize you were gay?”

Whenever Jean looked at him in that way – all serious and earnest – Eren’s heart beat a mile a minute. “When it occurred to me that you’re beautiful.”

“Goddamn it, Jean. I’m not a woman.”

But Eren was blushing to the tips of his ears.

 _Be brave_.

Nights were less awkward. They rolled around naked; melded together as whispered moans and promises passed between them. The world was nonexistent. All that mattered was Jean and how he made Eren feel like he was being consumed by a slow, burning fire. All that mattered was Eren and how Jean didn’t want these nights to end because Eren stared at him with those bright eyes and hair splayed over the pillow.

When Eren cried his name it was sweet-sounding and broken.

And Eren was wrecked over and over again from the inside out and Jean wanted to stay enveloped in this heat. He murmured fervently into Eren’s ear –  _eren, eren, eren_ – and Eren clung to him, uttering a mantra of his name –  _jean, jean, jean_  – and this was all that they needed. The touches that burned. The kisses that made everything better. The way they fit and moved so perfectly, so desperately because tomorrow wasn’t promised to either of them. The way Eren worshipped every single one of Jean’s scars and patches of marred skin. The way Eren’s skin felt smooth against coarse hands, which often times made Eren feel self-conscious because he was a soldier, he should have scars, but his titan abilities made him unable to retain them. For that, Jean was grateful. It made it easier to pretend that Eren wasn’t always trying to kill himself.

The high was the best part.

When they came down from it, Eren made himself a little more comfortable as he straddled Jean’s stomach. They would either clean themselves up or fall asleep a sticky mess, but at the moment Eren was regarding Jean with a small crease between his brows. A warm hand pressed over Jean’s heart.

“You should be a commander someday,” Eren said. “I can see you as one.”

He remembered Marco telling him he wasn’t strong and that was what made him a good leader. A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Perhaps.”

“Or even a king.”

Jean snorted. “Now there’s a thought.”

“I’m serious.”

“Only if you rule with me.”

“There can’t be  _two_ kings, Jean,” Eren chided.

“You can be my queen.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell y—“ He squeaked as Jean suddenly sat up and knocked him onto his back, pinning him down with his body.

“I know very well you’re not a woman,” Jean murmured. “And if you want me to be commander or king or tyrant, so be it. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be whatever you want, but you always have to stay by my side.” He clutched the hand that Eren held to his chest, noting the way Eren gazed upon him in awe, “I’m only brave when you’re there.”

“That’s fine.” There was nothing but endearment and love on Eren’s face. It was the most relaxed, the most open that Jean had ever seen him. It was pure adoration and contentment and a promise for the future and everything in-between. “I have enough courage for the both of us.”

Jean was his king.

_You are my lionheart._

Over the years, Eren learned how to transform without needing a sole reason to. He was conscious of everything when he was a titan. He was conscious of every step, every movement, every bit of effort it required to fight. He was conscious when he realized the battle was over and done with. He was conscious as he searched around for Jean. He was conscious when his search turned frantic because Eren couldn’t find him right away and maybe he was back with the others. He was conscious when he came across Jean’s mutilated and crushed body. He was aware of his actions as he knocked aside the wreckage that held Jean down and oh how frail and small he looked in those large, monstrous hands.

Maybe he was seeing things because no way could  _this_ be Jean; this broken, barely-recognizable, nothing-of-a-man.

They were supposed to rule the world together, after all.

They were supposed to stay by each other’s side, but how could Jean stand with such a battered body?

Eren thought he heard a cry. A scream. Maybe it was a roar. It didn’t sound human. And as he threw his head back and screamed with everything he had, he understood that it came from him. This beastly, hopelessly lost call.

Maybe one day he’d give himself time to grieve.

But he continued on day by day, a lion without his king.

**end.**


End file.
